STARTEND
by Nightly73
Summary: Hey so this is a series that I came up with on the fly. I wanted to explore more on Vi's character before she became a cop and the journey she had to take to go from Criminal to Police officer. We start off 6 months after she decides to leave the cog mafia and we watch as she learns better ethics and morals. Rated M for Vi's potty mouth and future smut #ripme
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey bbs. So I'm terrible with deadlines. Have fun with this I guess. Sorry for the wait for the sheriff and the soldier. I swear it's coming. It is completely done, just needs the final go ahead. Anyways, pls forgive me and have Vi being a hextech dweeb based off of EDEN's song. Give er a listen fam. #RitoWhereIsMyProjectViVoiceLinesToPulseFireCait #WHERE

Start/End

Currently the sun was her enemy. She threw a heavily tattooed arm over her burned corneas, giving a great huff of agitation. She rolled on her side to better avoid the concussive rays, only to have her ears berated with the sounds of border morning bustle. The clip clop of mule drawn carriages, the putter of back fired hex engines, the sound of arguments; quite a way to wake up hungover.

How in the hell did the woman living here sleep so peacefully?

In regards to that thought, Vi's mood slightly shifted to something of pure arrogant pride. The woman of questionable sleeping habits lay naked beside Vi, sprawled like a street squid on a Zaunite sludge walk. Her tattoos were quite a lot more artistic then Vi's; less gang affiliated and more...cultural. The one that intrigued her the most was the Ionian inspired piece resting underneath her breasts. It was something acquainted to silk like designs found in a sand garden. Lines were formed into flowing loops that covered the entire width of her torso. It was quite a beautiful piece of art that Vi's teeth had inherently bruised the night of last.

She had definitely scored well; a product of the whole defending the defenseless foolery she'd been getting herself into as of late.

Months ago the cogs would've smirked their troublesome smirks, jostling Vi for her 'prize' of the night as she returned home from her 'walk of shame'. But that was months ago and a time that no longer existed. A time that she had changed from. She was going to be better than that. Than them.

The cogs themselves, didn't quite appreciate the change of heart from their prodigal hextech genius. Especially since the 'change of heart' resulted in a mass arrest, taking herself and three other cog mafia members into Piltovian custody. If it wasn't for the mine operator vouching for Vi she would be rotting away with her past compatriots. She was a turn coat; a traitor in their eyes. Multiple attempts were later made to show their vexed emotions. But each was (in literal terms) swatted away by her new gauntlets.

They were crude weapons but with a few more months of tinkering, hard work and a few spitting snarls of contempt, she could really harness something wickedly dangerous. Hopefully, she could put a stop to the whole shenanigans of the dults that keep trying to ruin her new found life of, well to be dramatic, good.

Which brings her to the woman beside her.

It was a funny story really. An amateur purse snatcher kind of story. One where Vi, spying the elegant creature, already planned to woo and whisk the beauty away with more charisma than a Piltovian realtor. Suddenly, a starving kid who probably snuck his way into the slums of Piltover, raced forward, easily tearing the lady's coin purse from her personage. What was Vi to do? Let this woman curse a storm up and lose what she should have been keeping better care of in these parts.

Well I mean, it was easy to do, but would that get her laid... Absolutely not.

Quick to action she apprehended him, giving him a quick lecture on better stealing habits while holding him up by the collar of his shirt. "Drop it." She commanded in a bored tone. The thief did so, his pupils large with fear. "Next time, be a bit slower. Running and snatching gets ya into a hair of trouble like this, eh? Now scram, before Piltie pigs make their way looking for yer scrawny ass." She dropped the kid, letting him skitter away to the alleys, hopefully wise to learn his lesson. She scooped up the coin purse and practically sashayed her way to the dark haired Ionian doll.

"Seems you dropped something." She drawled with a sideways grin.

As what people will say, the rest was history. An invitation to getting dinner and a few drinks, turned into a pub crawl that turned into Vi being brought to the slum complexes and thrown onto a bed with a wonderful, beautiful, foxy woman on top of her.

It was a good night.

Carefully, she sat herself up, slowly swinging her legs off the side of the bed. She dragged her fingers through her shaggy short pink hair. Fighting off the woozyness of drinking too much the night before, she gave a careful stretch,letting her shoulder and back muscles pop audibly into the one room apartment. She did a quick visual scan looking for her strewn clothing. Sneakily she pulled on the fabric of her grease stained under shirt and pulled up the ripped denim of her pants. With her cracked leather jacket thrown over her shoulder she exited the small darkly lit unit and entered into the bustling busyness of the Piltover/Zaun border.

The city states shared the basis and character of a multi leveled city. However, they were as similar as cats and dogs. Sure they breathed the same air, and had some similar political and criminal systems, but they were both very different beasts. Only the best and brightest, the ones sick of the smog and rich enough to escape the ever present possibility of being mugged, left Zaun to get a few rings above to the lower, poorer parts of Piltover. With the Piltovians wanting to monitor the intake of municipal citizens they created a border ring meant to hold Zaunite immigrants into a zone where they could better acclimate to the culture of Piltover. Above that ring was the slums and above that the poor district and above that the middle class and above that, the shopping and market districts, the schooling ring, the city hall and last but not least the lordship ring. It was no better for the criminal activity, but the air was a hell of a lot cleaner. The Piltover police precinct in the border and slum rings was constantly harassed, always stretched thin, always needing more bodies; which made it easier for the bad doers to prey on the do-gooders or the easily targetable. Sure it wasn't Cog mafia material, but it was still an issue. One that Vi cared little about unless it affected her and her daily grind to finally be accepted into the hextechnology community and show all of those college nerds what real engineering looked like.

She pushed past carts and the crowds of people milling to and fro from the border. Smog reevers pushed past going the opposite direction of Vi; their hazmat suits squeaking along as they dragged their air purification vacuums along to finish another grueling task to keep the air pollutants out of Piltovian air space.

Adjoining her own air pollutant, Vi pulled her packet of cigarettes from her front pocket. She flipped her handmade lighter through her fingers before closing her hand around the rolled paper and igniting the flame. She took a long drag, pulling the smoke into her lungs. Most needed morning coffee and a shower to wake themselves up, Vi just needed a stale cigarette and a mental slap of super loud city goers. In all honesty a morning coffee always made things easier, but not all had the time or casual pocket change to get one.

She took her route to the next ring, climbing the poorly cleaned marble steps. Her boots trampled through puddles as the usual rain began to patter along the marble and cobblestone tiles of the street ways. The hustle and bustle quieted down as mining shifts began and work days started. Piltover was still a city of progress. It took them decades to raise themselves above their city counterparts, but they still held control of the Zaunite mining districts. They ran train systems and ferries to and from the mining zones.

It didn't take Vi long to reach the east side of the city state toward the harbour dockside. She walked by a few of the docksmen as they milled their way through their duties. Some tied hitches for incoming fishing boats and ferries. Other lifted large crates off of merchant boats from Ionia, or herd off immigrants from the far off island.

She came before the shipping district warehouse, taking a deep sigh as the smell of metals being fused together with torch welders and riveted together with factory made standards, hit her nose.

"Morning trouble!" Torrin greeted, ever pleasant as always. He was a bear of a man, who had been building ships since he was able to walk. He was the CEO of this factory warehouse, but you wouldn't think it while looking at him. He was part of the rich noble families that resided in the lordship ring, but every day he traveled to the poor district ring to partake in the building of his ships in his favorite factory warehouse. He had many warehouses within the rings, but to him this one had better character, better workers, and better output production. He was clean shaven man, with a completely shaved bald head. His olive toned skin was usually well kept with expensive oils and fragrances that reminded Vi of the lumber mills she used to walk by on the western part of the city state. He always wore clothes made with expensive fabrics that was perfect for heavy working conditions. He was what the working class should look like. He wore navy blue overalls, and a dark grey knit cotton long sleeved shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his old naval tattoo he received back in the days of his peace keeping services with the Piltovian Navy.

Torrin clapped Vi's back with his large bear like hands. "Your fifteen minutes late, rebel." He grinned, his accent totally foreign compared to the drawled sentences of his employees. His consonants were sharp and vowels not as drawn out. It was completely alien and when Vi had first met him, it completely took her aback.

"I know I know. I need coffee." She grumbled, strutting toward the canteen. She winked toward the counter worker, who gave her a dulled expression. "The darkest ya got, Marilyn."

Marilyn, the old hag, gave Vi a displeasured sigh, that easily passed Vi the scent of her rancid smoker's breath. The pinkette did her best not to gag, as the elderly woman turned to fulfill the request of the young brawler. With the same bored expression she slammed the styrofoam cup down onto the counter, letting the hot brew slosh all over her robotic hand. She coughed roughly gathering a globule of phlegm and spat at Vi's feet. "Here ya go, kid." She sneered through puckered lips.

"Yer a grace upon the eyes of young men, Marilyn." Vi winked.

"Keep it in yer pants and git outta ma site, you heathen." She snarled.

"Oh come on, ya know I just can't control myself around ya." Vi beamed.

"Feck off, Vi and git yer lazy arse to work. Stop wasting Torrin's gold."

Vi took off chuckling as she sipped the gritty coffee. She made a disgusted face as she met back up with Torrin. The middle aged gentleman, gave the pinkette a once over. "You get attacked by land leeches?" He sniggered.

Vi looked at the man perplexed before realising he was probably mentioning the massive hickeys under her jaw, along her neck and the line of her showing collarbones. "Got in a tussle with a whole pack of 'em, sir." She grinned devilishly.

"Oh what it is to be young and free. You do not needing me to tell you to keep safe, as you are a grown adult, but I can not have my prized engineer becoming bed ridden because she came down with some sort of infection. Fun is fun, but health is forever. Remember this." Torrin mentioned, watching his welders finally place the hull together. "I should add you to our health plan. Insurance is expensive, but if I hold you as a sponsored position we can easily get what you may need."

This was the thing about the relationship with Torrin and Vi. They had both never had anything like it. Vi was an orphan and was raised by gang members. She learned her rights and wrongs from the ones who casually tiptoed ethics on a daily basis. They had no recollection for what real morals were other than survival of the fittest and to never betray your fellow members. They taught her to thieve, to pillage, to harm, to relinquish as much blood as possible from a human body, to kill when necessary and that no law could ever keep you hostage unless caught. She never had a father figure who cared for her well being. She never had a person that she wanted to impress so much. She never had the proper guiding hand of how to properly acquire a bank account , how to pay bills and spend wisely, how to ensure you could get an apartment, how to legally drive a hexmobile and parallel park it.

Torrin who's loving wife lay barren, always wanted a daughter. He was a good influence on Vi. He could see the potential, the absolute inner ability that she could easily be a better version of herself. He was already proud of her progress and she had already shown proof by leaving the cog mafia. She was six months of turning a new leaf and he could definitely see the change. She had a talent for all things mechanical and hexmaturgical. It was a funny ability to be able to fix everything and anything without knowing the technical terms; he was fairly sure the girl barely even knew how to read.

Vi chuffed in disbelief. "Health insurance? The hell I need that for. I can still sew myself up and drink enough whiskey to numb the bullet holes." She grinned jokingly, elbowing her boss.

Torrin gave a great sigh as he mused her hair roughly. "Get to work, Rebel. There is an engine block waiting to get the good touch. Now go make it purr for me, before I fire you."

Vi gave a low chuckle. "Ah, c'mon chief, ya need me as much as I need you."

* * *

The whistle had called for the end of the day hours ago.

Vi leaned back in her stool, cracking her knuckles and popping the strained muscles that she had been holding in place as she had struggled with a difficult engine part. She needed to walk around or she would be locked up and kinked the next morning once she decided she had enough of working for the night. She got off her stool and began to walk the catwalks, letting her body loosen up. She needed to go back to the gym just down the street from her flat. She threw a few practice punches, letting her arms snap with each jab. Each was a powerful strike. She needed to be able to build up the muscle so that she could hold her new gauntlets for longer. It was then that the sound of loud yelling caught her ears.

"The void hell?" She asked to no one in particular. She descended the metal steps to the factory floor and rounded the corner toward the ship bays, where the yelling and crashing continued.

"WHERE IS IT?!" Someone bellowed. Something was thrown roughly into a pile of metal.

Vi froze when she came upon the scene. She backed up two steps, pressing her shoulder to cover herself against the cinder-block wall.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Torrin replied breathlessly. He sounded hurt; really hurt.

"Yes you do! The blueprints are in your name! WE KNOW YOU HAVE IT!"

The unforgettable sound of a pistol getting cocked made Vi move in urgency. Having enough of hearing her boss, her mentor, her friend wheezing for breath and him being in terrible danger, her feet moved before she could think.

 _What am I doing what am I doing Holy fuck holy fuck, you got this Vi, c'mon baby girl, holy fuck i don't got this fucking fuckity fuckerton what am I doing! Void hells. Torrin you owe me a raise_ She thought to herself in panic.

Her violet eyes focused on a workbench as the gunman heard the sounds of her booted feet slapping against the iron grates of the ship bay. She reached for a monkey wrench, swinging it in one fluid movement straight at the gunman, who ducked on instinct. As he ducked she threw herself at him, setting the gun off. The bullet grazed her left eyebrow, narrowly avoiding her cranium as she took the man down.

The two struggled against each other's strength. He was a tough opponent, with obvious muscle and fortitude but Vi got her fist free.

"Fuck… You… You… Fucking… Fuck!" She yelled as she pounded her knuckles into the man's nostrils. With the last strike, his head cracked back into the metal grating knocking him out cold. For good measure she hit him again, breaking the skin of her knuckles off of his newly cracked teeth.

"Fucking mother void above!" She called out rolling off the man, her chest heaving with adrenaline. It had been almost three months since her last fight, and it never got old. She gave a dry laugh as she nudged the toe of her boot into the man's temple. "Don't fuck with my boss, dipshit!"

In part panic and part realization she looked to Torrin, who was holding his abdomen.

"Oh man, Torrin. Void hell,please be okay." Vi begged, crawling her way over to the man. She hovered her hands over him unsure of what to do. "Tell me what to do! Should I call someone? Void hells you probably have to go to the hospital! Did you get shot? Did he stab you?"

"Vi." Torrin said sternly, cutting off her next question. He took a large pain filled breath. "In my pocket is my hex phone. Dial the emergency number, we need the police and an ambulance. I think I broke my ribs. If i move them too much it may puncture something. Make sure he does not get back up. Make sure you mention my name." Torrin instructed carefully through laboured breathing. He hissed as he tried to resettle himself.

"And what's your full name?" Vi asked in absolute seriousness.

"Torrin Deramore." He said in incredulity. "How have you not known that?"

"I'm a fucking idiot Torrin, that's why. Void above I usually avoid the pigs, not call 'em." Then it was like something clicked in her mind, the cogs began to turn as something started to make sense. "Wait, Deramore. Like Sheriff Deramore, Deramore?"

"Yes. Through Marriage, not by blood, but yes. My niece is the sheriff of Piltover." Torrin hissed through his teeth.

Vi looked at him as if he had seven heads. "Well, shit."

"Vi!" Torrin snarled roughly.

"Right sorry, sorry. Hold on, boss." She reached through his large pockets of his pants, searching for the device. "What's the emergency number?"

"8755." He bared.

Nodding she dialed in the number and waited for the line. She was quite unimpressed with the calmness and slow moving pace of the operator. It took a lot of "Hurry up," and "We don't have all fucking day lady, send in whoever can help us!" With more information that Torrin had to grind through his teeth, the woman had assured help would be on the way. Vi hung up with a snarl on her lips.

"Fucking useless- couldn't even understand the need for speed." She grumbled. "Shouldn't be long, boss." She assured. "They kinda lit a fire under their arse when they heard your name. Must help getting you through traffic. Do you ever use it for lunch lines too?" She joked.

Torrin looked at Vi with a questioning look, before breaking out into a small laugh. "You are quite the incredible young woman, Vi. You acted quickly. I actually feel bad for the brute. You put him in quite the sorry state."

"I could put him in a worse one." She growled protectively. "Say the words and I can hang him against the entrance doors. Keep it as a reminder and a warning."

"We can't do that, Vi. This isn't our duty to determine his justice. He'll get it served properly." Torrin explained.

"Where I'm from, he'd get a lot worse fate than being hung to prevent more shit like this." Her metaphorical hackles rose as she kept her violet eyes focused on the would be assailant.

"Well, it doesn't work like that here. I will follow the rule of law, and so will you." Torrin chided. He reached his free hand and placed it along her shoulder. "Thank you, Vi. You saved my life."

Vi became overly warm and uncomfortable with the gratefulness. "Nothing to mention. Just doing what I do best. Breaking faces, saving the day. Ya know the true Vi way. I used to be the saving grace, for the gang too. Used to save 'em from all of the shitty deals that went sour. I was always their back up plan. I'm a bit out of practice now, but I did pretty ok with what I got."

"You did fantastic."

The sound of sirens came closer and Vi became even more protective. Torrin observed her behaviour. It seemed as if she was ready to bolt at any moment. She kept her eyes downcast as heavy boots, thundered into the grate flooring. She refused to raise her hands as the police moved in to ensure the safety of the area. One of them roughly grabbed her and Torrin loudly protested.

"Unhand my employee this instant!" He bellowed through his pain.

Vi threw the officer off of her body, pushing herself up onto her feet and standing protectively in front of Torrin. Her eyes flickered to two other advancing officers; their weapons raised. "Hands up where we can see them! Now!" One of them ordered. She raised her fists, curling her hands to form tight knuckles. The officer who was thrown, rose from the ground and jumped back as he saw the would be assailant brutally beaten.

"Enough!" A high Piltovian accent cut the tension instantly as the officers stood at attention, their hand up in salute. "See if that man is still breathing, and detain him. Rarin Ferval has been a wanted man for a while now. He made a mistake visiting my uncle I see."

Vi kept her gaze onto her the officers, her position still stiff and ready for any threat. That is until she spotted the sheriff.

Rumours of the Sheriff's beauty and cunning abilities traveled everywhere within both city states. Vi had heard them, but at the moment her eyes fell upon Caitlyn Deramore she knew that the rumours did no such justice to the presence the young sheriff held.

However, she was shorter than expected.

"Please, step away from my uncle." It was more of a command than a request. Her icy eyes locked onto Vi's violet hues. There was absolutely no budging with ice shards like those. No room for deals with a gaze made of steel. Her long raven black hair was tied into a tight ponytail, revealing the sharp angles of her jaw line. Her chin was tipped up in absolute confidence in power, but it was in a way that was not arrogant. Her lips formed a hard line as she waited for Vi to move. She was in a light grey tunic shirt that, just like her uncle, was rolled up to her elbows. She wore a pair of black pants that hugged tightly to the figure of her hips. Her knee length leather boots, were polished to a near perfect shine.

Slowly, Vi dropped her fists and stepped to the side. Her eyes refocused on the police officers as Caitlyn pushed past her to kneel next to her uncle. They warily watched Vi as they lifted the unconscious man from the floor.

"Hello, dear." Torrin breathed. "Sorry that you got pulled away from work. It seems I was attacked for my blueprint credentials."

Caitlyn sighed heavily. "Rarin Ferval has been on the loose for quite sometime. We knew he would pop up somewhere soon. I'm just sorry it was for you. I had no idea you had what was necessary for you to be a target of his, or I would have watched you more carefully."

"If it was not for Vi, I would truly be in a bit more of a pickle then this." He wheezed. "She saved my life. Ensure she doesn't get wrongfully arrested."

"Of course uncle. Now let's get you the medical attention you need." Caitlyn rose to her full height and sauntered over to one of her standing by officers. "You can allow the medics to enter. It is clear of any danger."

The officer nodded before setting off.

The Sheriff then turned her heels to Vi. "And who are you? Why did you save my uncle?" She questioned.

Vi crossed her arms over her chest. "Wouldn't you like to know, shorty."

Caitlyn rose an eyebrow dangerously.

"Vi." Came Torrin's warning tone. "No need to act like the tough guy."

The pinkette continued to glare at the sheriff, who returned the gaze with an emotionless mask. "I don't often repeat myself, but again, who are you? Why did you save my uncle?"

Vi rolled her eyes. "Name's Vi and don't you forget it, shorty."

"Well, Vi." Subtle venom was spat with her name. "I will kindly request that you do not, in any way shape or form refer to me in any other way, then Sheriff Deramore."

Vi scoffed. "Yeah whatever. Look, I was here, working on the engines. I heard someone yelling. Your uncle is a good boss and I'm in need of a raise soon. Rather than losing my boss to a bloody gunfight, I thought it be rather wicked of me to come save the day and get me that sweet pay, darling." She drawled. "Now if ya don't mind, sweets, I gotta go home and catch some sleep so that tomorrow I can be fifteen minutes late again and piss my boss off more." She then looked to Torrin. "See ya tomorrow. Don't die on me, I'm still looking forward to that raise. I'm counting on ya. You owe me now, eh?" She pointed playfully.

Caitlyn's brow furrowed. "I need to question you."

"No you don't. Ya got yer perp, shorty. Now keep yer truffle sniffing hogs off me so I can get some decent shuteye." Vi brushed past Caitlyn. "Keep up the great work, keeping the lordship ring and shopping district crime free. Let us keep control here, it really looks good on yer resume I think." Vi sneered.

"And who is us?" Caitlyn called as the pinkette continued to walk away. The sheriff shook her head. "She seems like an awful employee and a dangerous one at that."

"Vi, is harmless." Torrin sighed, as the medics took to work on him.

The raven haired young woman quirked an eyebrow to her uncle. "Tell that to Rarin. I'm sure as soon as he wakes up he will not think that at all."

"Her heart is in the right place. She is a diamond in the rough, that one. So much potential. She just needs to work on her attitude. Not the best bringing up, if you want the answer to that. She honestly isn't that bad. I've only ever seen her be like that to people she doesn't feel safe around."

Caitlyn nodded. "The whole arrogance thing is quite the annoying facade, if you ask me."

"You are telling me. It took her a month and a half before she could trust me enough to start joking around with me. Stubborn as a mule, but the mind of a genius. Easily the best engineer I've ever met." He spoke roughly, as he was raised via stretcher.

"Well we can talk more about this later tomorrow. I want more information about why he targeted you. I don't fully trust your employee, so with your permission, I'd like to be granted to spend a day with her at work. She may have information regarding the attack." Caitlyn thought.

"Do what you must." Torrin replied. "But be warned, you thought she was infuriating now, wait until you try to bother her during her work. It just gets worse from there." He chuckled as he was whisked away.

 _What an intriguing character._ Caitlyn thought.

a/n- hey again. So last minute thought. This may turn into a series, i dunno. I hope you enjoyed. I'll have the next chapter at some point. Let me know what you guys think. Also what about a bilgewater D&D character thing. A while back a group of mine made a bilgewater booty crew campaign and the characters I made were actually super intriguing. If you guys are interested I can post their meet up story. Cool, cool, cool. See you guys in a bit hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2: commenceconclude

a/n- Hey bbs. So here is the next chapter to Start/End. WOOOO! You guys have been really responsive to this story so I thought I'd work more on it. Enjoy!

commence/conclude

As soon as the lock on her door latches shut she turns just enough to flop onto the murphy bed that she never has the time, nor energy, to put away. She kicks off her boots, launching them toward the small kitchenette as she runs her calloused hands through her dirty hair.

This is where her mind begins to process through all of the absolute ridiculousness. Like the old projectors in the youth facilities, each event goes like a flicker of a picture. The Ionian goddess, the walk to the docks, the engine nearly blowing up in her face (a rookie fuck up that makes her grit her teeth even now), staying overtime ( a common thing when dealing with difficult machines), the wrench sailing straight for Torrin's attacker, the sheriff.

Her violet eyes widen.

"Fuck." She murmurs softly as she presses her palms into her eye sockets. She waits for the fuzzy pressure to start before she let's go, causing her eyes to blink a few times.

The recollection of the sheriff freeze frames into her mind. The woman was phenomenally drop dead gorgeous. Everything about her had the absolute air of control, organization and earned power.

It drove Vi crazy.

But what really drove her nuts was the way the skin from just below her ear looked so soft and inviting before it became the sharp edge of a jaw. At the time of meeting her all she wanted to do was press her nose against it; to feel her pulse as Vi crossed the boundary of personal space. It made her mouth water just thinking about it.

"Fucking gay idiot." She hisses to herself, pressing her knuckles against her pounding forehead. "Had to play the ass card to one of the most powerful women in Piltover. Void above, what the fuck is wrong with me. 'Let us keep control.' The fuck, me! Now I'm suspicious and the fucking bacon is gonna be grilling me left, right and centre. Damn, I'm a sweet talker." She spat sarcastically.

She kicks herself out of her bed and moves to her small closet-like bathroom. It is long and narrow enough to fit a small tub, a half working toilet, and a basin sink. Shelves lined with the old tenant's medication and vitamins take up the rest of the space on the wall. The only thing of possession to Vi in the bathroom are the three oil stained towels, a bottle of mild painkillers, a brush and a tin can that was converted into a med kit.

She rests her hands on the side of the basin sink and stares at her reflection.

"What the fuck am I doing?" She asks her reflection, looking at the way her facial tattoo is etched into her cheek. Just like her past, she received it during a time where there was no recollection. The gang doctors said it was a case of amnesia caused by the amounts of trauma that her young brain could not fathom. A defence mechanism.

Defence from what, no one really knows, but it was enough to fuck up her brain and that must be something really terrifying. Growing up with gangs like the cog mafia, there was never a filter of the things that they have done in front of Vi. Some were so unspeakable it would make all of their mothers cry in shame.

With a sigh, she leans away from the mirror. She turns the rusty old knobs of the faucet, letting water course down onto her calloused knuckles cleaning off the dried blood of the attacker. Carefully she washed around the new split along the joint of her left index finger. Must have been from his cheekbones that she busted open. She inspects the bullet graze newly formed into her eyebrow. It was definitely going to be an impressive scar and an impressive story of bravery. It was sure to win the heart of some beauty at a grimy darkly lit bar. She cups some of the water into her palms and splashes it over her face, trying to wash the image of Caitlyn out of her head. Would she be the type to be impressed by scars?

"Fuck off, Vi," She chastised herself.

Maybe she just needed some sleep. Maybe she just needed to restart her brain, just like when she restarts the engines. She dries her face with one of her towels and exits the bathroom.

"Just close my eyes. That's all I gotta do. Don't even thin-"

The knock was a rapid dance of knuckles. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She was pretty damn sure she didn't invite anybody over, and she was fairly sure no one even knew where she lived, except for Torrin. But he wouldn't say anything.

Unless it was the sheriff.

"Nah, Torrin, wouldn't tell her that." She thought aloud.

The knock came back a bit more frantic and rougher.

"Hold on, I'll be right there!" She called out, wrapping her fingers around the baseball bat that rested against her makeshift nightstand of milk crates.

She unlocked the deadbolt as she turned the doorknob slowly, keeping her body pressed against the door jam. Her eyes stayed focused on the chain lock watching the door strain against the tension. Her breath caught as she watched the crowbar crash into the metal links. Someone shoved the door roughly throwing it open and pushing Vi back.

She set her back foot and raised her batting arm, ready to send someone's head for a home run. Two of them rushed her instantly.

With a roar she swung, hitting one cleanly in the temple and making him fall back unconscious. The crowbar clattered beside his body.

The other got lucky and ducked the swing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, using his advantage to lift her body up into the air.

The bat slipped from her hands as the air left her body, making her lungs seize. With a hard knock on her head, the tangle of bodies landed on the dusty concrete floor of her flat. By instinct, she rose her fists to protect her head as his fist began to make blows to her face. She bucked her hips throwing the attacker off her body. She rolled onto her knees and ducked just in time to miss a kick aimed at her head.

"Ahh," She barked in surprise, nearly losing her balance as she recovered herself. She stood up quickly, her fists raised, stance perfect. "The fuck you think you are, breaking my bloody lock?" She snarled.

A grin was plastered on the attacker's face. "The same one who will drag your bloodless body to Rolum." He spat.

"Fuck off man, I do not have the time for this. Tell that dick to bring himself so we can have a good chat, eh? Not this impersonal shit. Kinda fucking rude in my opinion." She replied angrily.

"I'm afraid that will not be sufficient for my orders." He chuckled darkly.

Vi shrugged. "Alright fine, but you're messing with the wrong bitch, fuckeroo." She moved first kicking her milk crate night table straight into his knee. He bent low in reaction his left hand going straight to his patella. She grabbed the edge of her ratty blanket on her murphy bed, throwing it over his head. He flailed uselessly trying to pull this loose material to unblind himself. Vi grabbed his head and slammed her knee into his covered chin. He started to fall back before she grabbed at the lapels of his old leather jacket. She pulled the sheet from his head, watching the panic in his eyes, before thrusting her forehead into his nose.

A loud crunch was heard, blood splattered the flooring and makeshift furniture around them.

"Ahh voids, do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of cardboard boxes? C'mon man." She frowned.

The attacker half consciously lulled his head to the side to look at her in pained curiosity. Why was she walking him backwards?

"We gotta send a message, boyo." She chuckled, half dragging half pushing him toward the open door. His feet almost moved in a pattern that would resemble a drunken saunter. "Now you've got the easy part, my dude. Yer just gonna fall into a nice lil' snooze on the street. Easy peasy, I swear." She promised

"I donfe bewleife….lik..like...plweaan." He half whimpered half garbled.

"Shh shh shh. Sleepytime, buddy." She whispered. She pushed him into the busy evening air. He half caught himself before he nearly stumbled onto his back. "Now you fucking tell Rolum to walk his ass down here instead of bringing half-assed dick wads into my home. He has a problem with me he can fucking deal with it himself like a real fucking man." She bellowed.

The population of this ring were used to these displays. Power struggles of gangs trying to break through to the upper rings were a common thread of news in the area. It never stopped their paths or their ears. Sure they may not be obviously observing the incidents before them, but they were still listening and watching from the corner of their eyes.

And so were the gang scouts who were always watching.

She lunged forward with a powerful left cross that connected to his right cheek. The strike spun him around in an almost comedic fashion before he fell face first into the cobblestone street. A hexcarriage gave a loud annoyed honk as it narrowly avoided running over his body.

Vi spat at him and glared at the eveningoers. They seemed to quicken their paces to avoid any altercation. "Get dunked." She scoffed.

She had the undeniable feeling of being watched crawl up her spine. Her hairs stood on end warning her of an overly observant gaze, nothing like the usual gang scout. She turned herself as she took a steadying breath.

 _Alright, let's think this through, Vi._ She thought. _I could crash under the docks for a night, or break into the warehouse and sleep under my desk. Nah that's fucking stupid, why bring trackers to Torrin. Bad enough he's getting targeted by some other idiots. I'll have to move all night, keep whoever's watching me on a goose chase. I gotta be more careful. Being too comfortable. Can't make mistakes like this again. No more habits you dult. Torrin is gonna be pissed when he finds out I'm not coming back. Maybe I can make a courtesy call. No that's stupid, don't connect yourself with him, idiot._

She stepped over the first assailant. His unconscious body lay motionless as she gathered a few things into a pack. Enough food for a few days, her med kit, a second set of clothes, her tool bag and a few cans of beer for the road. She shrugged on her leather jacket, checking her pockets for her pack of cigarettes and lighter. With a deep sigh of relief now that her nicotine craving could last for another week thank _you, Margaret, for leaving your new pack on the counter_ , She cackled inwardly. She turned to her kitchenette counter where her crudely constructed gauntlets waited for her.

"I ain't forgetting you, my loves." She grinned. They'd be heavy and awkward to travel with, plus an attention seeker, but who the hell would wanna tango with her with these hulking beauties attached to her fists. If she fiddled enough with them they probably could produce enough power to blow someone away. It tickled her mind slightly. That would be wicked to see.

Her digits glided over the rusted metal of the heating plates and pressure gauge. It was a gentle touch of pure adoration. She will make these goliaths great, just as she is trying to build herself up. Those nerds will not know what hit 'em when she makes it on her own accord. Rejecting her because she isn't Piltie, isn't proper. She'll wipe those pompous arrogant moustaches from their faces when she gets to the top.

But first, she needs to deal with the problem at hand.

She places her hands into the gauntlets. Her thumbs hit the power switches. The gears hum and cough the first few seconds before the machinery breathes before the power crystals fully transfer their power to her gauntlets. The steam hisses from the side exhausts as they form to her hands, locking tightly into place. The devilish smile that forms with her lips would cause most religious individuals to pray to their gods.

One with Machine.

She charges her gauntlets, letting the energy flow through the systems to her veins. It feels amazing as they hum in rhythm with her heart.

"Oh ho ho, fuck yeah." She growls in pleasure, before lunging forward and blowing out a whole through her now abandoned unit's wall. Sure her landlord will do their best to get in contact to pay for the damages but wasn't that what a damage deposit was for. She already paid a year's rent so they shouldn't be too angry if she wasn't going to renew the lease for the next year? Right?

Bah that didn't matter now. It was just Vi. Vi and her gauntlets to conquer the streets again.

* * *

This was not what she had planned. It had been a week since Rolum's groupies attacked her and here she was, rain pouring down on her like her self-regret. Non-stop.

Her travels had taken her to the back of an 'authentic' Bilgewatian pub in the shopping district of Piltover proper. These Piltie idiots throw around 'yohos' and pirate hats, singing Freljordian sea shanties thinking it resembles anything like the port city-state.

What dults. If only they spent a day there, they wouldn't be thinking it was a joy of a time pretending to be pirates.

She takes a long drag from her cigarette. It's her last one and it's an annoying reminder to go be out to the public and be berated with their untrusted looks. They don't take Zaunites very well up in these parts of the city.

Some city of progress.

Her funds are still in good standing. She was able to make a full withdrawal from her account and it is now resting safely in the secret pocket of her leather jacket.

She finishes her cigarette throwing it into a nearby puddle. The rain begins to descend much harder. It's no longer a light sheet, but a heavy curtain. The expensive hexcarriages that drive past the alley are no longer in view.

She sighs heavily before returning her hands to the safety of her gauntlets. She needs to get moving. If she is lucky there may still be openings at the cheap looking inn a block away. She could do well with a proper nights sleep on a warm bed rather than soaking wet garbage bags. Plus she needs to get ready. She found a local garage looking for help and if she could catch a proper place to work on more hextech and to be able to get some wiring work done on her gauntlets, it would be perfect. If she can just hold out for a month, she could figure out how the hell she was going to take on Rolum so that she could actually sleep peacefully.

The feeling of being watched returns. It comes every now and again reminding her of her situation. One time she woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the lower class ring as the feeling had crept into her dreams. She had gotten up and continued to move on never sleeping for another day before it became too much. She's not sure if it's paranoia or if she is actually being followed, but either way, she can't take the feeling lightly. She's been doing her best to find the source but with countless nights of no sleep and hunger, it had been almost impossible.

The sound of a door crashing open catches her ears. It sets her on edge as she leans on the balls of her feet.

"Fredrick, let's not. Your wife is in there." A voice broke in panic. "Please get off me."

"Shhh, she doesn't know. We can do this quickly, Jerra. I've been hungry for your touch." The high Piltovian accent cut through the pouring rain.

"No, this is stupid." The other voice protested.

Vi still cringes at the accents. They sound so...sophisticated. Having such a proper way of speaking must be so exhausting.

"What's stupid is that youse came into an alley to get yer freak on." Another voice added. This made Vi's ears perk. A lower accent? The sound of a switchblade clicked open. "It would be a shame if you were caught screaming an' half naked with yer guts out. Pay up and I'll at least let ya have the courtesy of redressing, eh?"

"Fredrick, No!" The voice of Jerra protested. The sound of a switchblade clicked open. Curses were shouted and grunts echoed through the alleyway. "Someone please help!"

Vi rolled her eyes. She turned her head to look over her shoulder. The figures of a young woman caught her attention. Seemed cute, nothing really going on for style. Probably some rich family's next heir in some business. Before her were two other male figures in quite the battle of strength.

She sighed heavily as she turned herself fully.

"Oi, d'ya mind shutting the fuck up? I'm trying to brood." She called over the rain. Lightning cracked in the sky above them.

The figures continued to wrestle for power.

"Voids above." She snarled under her breath as she sauntered forward. She pushed past the petite young woman. "I said shut the fuck up!" She bellowed splitting up the two men. The obvious Piltovian citizen looked to Vi in shock as she stepped in. His eyes nearly bugged out of his perfectly coiffed head as he regarded her gauntlets. He went protectively to the young woman, almost using her as a shield. Vi returned his look with a sneer. "Just want some fucking peace and quiet, but you dults just wanna conk the shit out of each other, which trust me I get-" She was cut off as a fist landed its way on her chin.

She took a second to recover as she turned her attention to the hitter. The Zaunite glared at Vi with disdain. "These were mine, get yer own steals!" He spat. "Yer on my territory cunt."

Vi raised her newly scarred eyebrow to the idiot. "Yer what now?"

"Beat it before I gut ya."

Vi blinked before she gave a loud roar of a laugh. The Piltovian adultering couple looked at Vi incredulously. She looked at them with a wide grin. "Can ya believe this guy? He really thinks… Ya know what. Thank you. I really needed this." She directed this to the angry Zaunite. "I'll let you walk away right now. Go on. Go home back to yer missus before I break your face to bits."

He didn't respond as he lunged at her. Vi sidestepped him. She grabbed the back of his jacket and picked him up easily. Her gauntlets released an annoyed sigh of steam at the effort. The man swung his arms as he was lifted, trying to break her hold. She ducked out of the way in time to miss getting jabbed in the face with his knife.

"Oh please." Vi scoffed before she tossed the man out the other end of the alley. "Go home!" She bellowed out as his body skidded to a halt on the curb side of the street.

"Thank you, miss." The Piltovian man said as he extended his hand.

"Fuck off," Vi grumbled pushing past them and returning to her side of the alley. She gave another heavy sigh before she walked out into the street way, the rain shrouding her as she walked briskly out of their sights.

* * *

The report was slapped onto her desk. "East of the shopping district on Orion." The officer explained. "Two citizens were in an altercation. She stepped in and ended it. No harm no foul."

"Interesting." She muttered holding the manila folder in her slight hands. "No damage or brutal beatings?"

"None." The officer replied, her voice brisk and uninterested. "They said the Pink haired Zaunite threw their attacker out of the alley and the perp got away shortly after."

"Keep track of any more movement from her in that area. I wonder why she's in the shopping district. She'll stick out like a sore thumb out there." The sheriff queried. "Keep a tab of any hextech shops or work factories. Did she have the digger hands?"

"Only takes them off to smoke." The officer replied.

"She'll be wanting to make upgrades. If my uncle is correct, she tinkers quite a bit with them. It must be driving her insane. If we catch a pattern, we can corner her. We just need her to stop being on the move. Let's keep the tracking to a minimum. Be a day behind her, no more keeping eyes on her. She probably knows she's being watched."

"Yes ma'am."

"You're dismissed." Caitlyn returned her attention to the report. "One step closer." She breathed. "The last piece to the puzzle of Rolum Jamieson."


	3. Chapter 3: EmbarkCease

_A/N- Hey everybody! Here is the next segment. Hope you enjoy. Also, EDEN finally released his new album and my god it's so good. Once again this entire series was inspired by his song start/end_

Embark/Cease

Zaun is the undercity of an undercity that knows the true meaning of hustle. It isn't a place for those with alignments to the law or to any kind of moral conduct. It's an area with more grime and muck than the underside of a sewer workers boot. But it has a character that is admired in secrecy by the ones who look down at it. In a literal sense of course.

Moss and vine cover over the vent stacks that are connected from the city above, spewing out fumes that cause deadly lung disease within the populace. The crawling greenery is a new city project implemented to help the filtration of the air, but even though the plantation thrives with plenty of carbon dioxide it does not filter enough. Smaug reevers, with their ventilators strapped on tight, mill their way, sucking up the greenish grayish hue and convert what they can into pure oxygen.

Rolum Jamieson brushes past the white-suited individuals. His own ventilator covers his mouth and nose. Even though he is well used to the smog as being a citizen for well over thirty-five years, he has the means and power to use the metal contraption. Below his gumboots are the rusty walkways that lead to the Bridgewaltz. It is a bustling zone between the Zaunite and Piltovian borders. It is where the two city-states can coexist in harmony.

Well on most occasions.

He passes by cultivair after cultivair. He is in the wealthier districts of Zaun. Their glass houses are well lit and well ventilated. They belong to the Zaunite chemtech moguls; the creators of poisons and toxins, of drugs and medicines, of hextech seen by no other. They are the ones who do not wish to leave Zaun. How could they run the markets all the way up in Piltover?

Tonight, if plans continue to go as scheduled, he will target one.

His eyes dart up toward the milling crowds as the noise of merchants and buskers berate his ears. He passes by pubs with rowdy patrons; the stages flooded with screaming fans as bands squeal out tunes of every genre. Vendors scream out price numbers in Valorian gold, the standard currency within the two city-states. Flags and string lights flutter above his head, one flag tail brushes the back of his neck, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He meanders his way through the rest of the crowds before he ends up in front of his pride and glory.

The Artificer's Stool was a pub most acquainted with classy drinks, jiving dance parties and incredible bar brawls. It was a favourite of Zaunite patronage. Deals could be made easily, especially when the bar owner and the bartender (only on Sundays and Tuesdays) was the boss of the illustrious cog mafia. He pushed through the old iron door, greeting the bouncers with a tip of his bowler hat. He shrugged off his woollen overcoat and hung it upon a great oaken coat rack.

His patrons were all involved in a conversation. Tonight there was no band wailing away, or dancers being thrown in the air by their reliable partners; only the soft and hushed conversations of planning.

He went to the bar and sat on a stool, handcrafted for him specifically.

"Boss." The bartender greeted. "King's poison?"

"Aye'," He sighed, removing his ventilator.

The bartender rolled up her sleeves, revealing the artisanal ink creations. Her tan skin was not only marked with tattoos but long snarling scars. "I bring news." She whispered as she finished squeezing Ionian blood oranges into a shaker. "Your shacklers couldn't bring down Pink." She murmured.

"What did they say about it?" He casually sat back, resting his forearm on the steel counter.

"Not much." She snorted. "She put one inna coma. Th'other…well, I don't think he can talk with broken teeth. The only thing he said, an' pardon the diss, 'Rolum can bring himself next time.'"

"Little pink haired twat. Should'a slapped that mouth more." He sighed heavily. He graciously took the drink from the bartender. "Thank ye, Breagh. Only thing I can count on." He took a quick sip, enjoying the sour taste of lemon and dragon fruit. The aftertaste of Gold Bilgewatian blood rum and Freljordian vodka caused a low content hum. "After everythin' I've done fer her. I've helped her start her own gang, taught her to fight, taught her a good work ethic, an' this is me repayment. Utter shiete. It's a disbelievin' thing. I took her from the sumpsnipes, showed her a real way of makin' a life. She has the audacity to leave me like this. She owes me, Breagh. The gold she made off with was supposed to be mine, an' she took it up to Piltover wit her. She'll see me alright. She'll be strapped to a bloody hexdraulic conveyer going to a tunnel."

Breagh gave a small smile as she patted the back of his hand. "You'll get her, boss."

Rolum gave another great heaving sigh. He looked to the liquid in the tumbler. Flakes of gold swam in the sour drink. "Not tonight, dear. Are the gents out back?"

The bartender nodded. "Ready when you are."

"Excellent." He downed the drink, gently landing the crystal embossed tumbler on the bar. "These are getting better an' better. Keep up tha' good work, Breagh." He grinned. He tapped the bar before disembarking from his stool. He grabbed his ventilator and straightened his vest. He checked his pocket watch, raising an eyebrow at the time. Still on schedule.

He briskly walked through the pub, passing by patrons. Some rose from their tables and followed behind Rolum as he entered into the curtained MVP area. He pushed on farther, ignoring the cabaret singer throwing off her dress for the applauding group of high paying Piltovian individuals who came to explore the Zaunite fairer sex. He nodded to a security guard that stood before a small steel door.

"Pardon me, Fryzen." He opened the door, ducking to miss the steel cross beam, placed for security measures. He came before his roundtable.

The individuals who followed him from the pub took their respective places.

"Gents," He greeted with a quick nod. "Easy heist. Nothing too dangerous. Keep yer heads on yer shoulders, an focus on the goal. Find those Expulsor blueprints. I've got eyes and hands prying above, we gotta do the dirty work below. We got high numbers from Chem barons that want these bloody things and we gotta squeeze every last bit of bleeding gold from them so keep 'em in good condition."

They nodded.

"Our target is Baron Illenius. Major chemtech owner with ties to Hexcraw, Medarda and Cadwalder. Our...employers, believe they have what they're searchin' for. Every nook and cranny, gents."

They all looked to their leader with focused gazes. He trained them, nurtured them, fought for them.

"Do me proud."

* * *

Steel has a scent that brings a sweet taste to her tongue. It bites and growls the obvious metallic overtones that truly gives it character. But the real sense she enjoys the most from it is the acrid taste of home. Dark infusion of chemical and fire leaps her heart into a warm zone of memories rushing the lanes of Zaun.

A sideways grin crawls its way through to her lips. Fire from the massive smithing ovens dance in her violet irises as she makes her way into the shop. A handful of workers move to and fro as they fit steel to skeletons of hexcarriages. Somewhere in the shop, an engine backfires. The crew workers all burst into sarcastic and joking applause. One of the workers shakes her head playfully before she regards Vi gazing at the workshop like an overexcited conqueror planning out their siege of a prosperous kingdom.

"Can I help you?" She asks the tall pinkette.

Vi looks down at the small woman in surprise as she had not noticed her before. She could be no more than over five feet, however, she was built with burly muscle. She was easily throwing around massive thin lined wheeler rubber as if it weighed no more than a feather. A small challenge rose it's way to Vi's mind; could she win an arm wrestle? The worker's eyes were a cat-like green that seemed to hide intelligence behind brutishness. Vi knew what it was like to be judged by strength.

Apparently with brawn comes the inability to think. The pinkette mentally scoffs at the sense of the populace.

Vi decides she likes this individual.

This individual decides, she too, likes Vi.

"Heard yer looking for an engine tech." The brawler grins leaning up against a drum of oil.

The individual tips her chin up, her eyes taking in the gauntlets attached and hissing. "You make those?"

"Yeah, cobbled 'em with my bare hands. Fucking things burn like a bitch, but I'm starting to like the feeling. Guess I'm a masochist." She winks, clenching and unclenching her metallic fists.

"Name's Leera. Head supervisor on the floor. Welcome to Piltover's Customs. Home to all masochists." She chuckles. "Follow me. Let's get you some paperwork and see if we can start you off today, hmm?"

Vi took a quick skip in her step as she beamed brightly. "Wicked. Hope ya don't mind chicken scratch, my writin' ain't the best." Vi admits through a chuckle following behind the fast walking woman.

Leera snorts. "Probably better than most of these gobsmacked twits anyways." She calls out playfully. The crew of five give unintelligible groans and half-hearted retorts. She opens a door and gestures for Vi to enter. "No matter, I usually take notes so the owner can better read it. His eyesight is going and apparently, mine makes the best sense. Take a seat and we can get right into it."

"Mind if I take off my gauntlets?"

"Course," Leera mumbles as she finger through stacks of paper. Smudges from her fingerprints start to line some documents and she curses lowly until she finds the right parchment.

Vi powers down her gauntlets and gently disengages them to fall on the floor. She rolls her wrists and rubs at the sore spots.

"Alright, name?" Leera asks, taking a pen and dipping it into dark ink.

"Vi."

"Last name?"

"Not applicable."

Leera raises an eyebrow.

Vi rolls her eyes. "I'm an orphan, nothing comes with me other than spirit." She chuckles.

Leera nods. "Previous Employer?"

"Torrin Deramore."

Leera's eyes nearly pop out of her head in disbelief. "Torrin, the shipbuilder, Deramore? Why in the hell did you leave that gig?"

"Personal issues." She replied tersely.

"Personal issues that'll follow you?" Leera asked suspiciously.

"Gettin' it dealt with."

"That doesn't sate my worry." The woman replies.

"My personal issue would be stupid to follow me out this far. Too many, pardon the slur, Pilt hogs running these fancy streets."

Leera nods as she scratches out quick words. "Am I gonna lose a worker in a month's time?"

"No." Vi lied easily. "I plan to make roots in this one."

"Which clan trained you? I need hextech engineering certificates to legally let you work here."

"Certificates?" Vi asked perplexed. "I don't have that shit. Not much opportunity for people like me in the underside." She scoffed.

"You weren't apprenticed or even took classes at the university?" Leera queried oddly. "Have you ever been to school?"

"School of hard knocks." Replied sarcastically.

"So a self-made hextechnician, walks into my uncle's shop with not a single certification or apprenticeship stamp, expecting a job in Piltover proper. But you worked for Torrin Deramore and left because of 'personal issues'." Leera sat back in her chair. "You're two things in my eyes right now. Either a pretty damn good investment that could bring a shining point to the Piltover Custom name or a super bad investment that could end with the business being shut down for unsafe and untrained workers as well as possible gang affiliations that could set fire to this place looking for you." Her jaw formed a strong line.

Vi sucked on her teeth and stared at the woman with an unblinking gaze. "Put me to work as a trial. Call Torrin if ya want. But I can assure you. I'm a pretty solid 'investment'. Ain't no one better than me in this field of work. I can make anything work, better than most of those snubnosed pricks at the university."

"Might wanna be careful. I'm one of those snubnosed pricks." Leera crossed her arms over her chest.

"I meant what I said." Vi mirrored the woman's movement, trying best to clench her anger and wrangle it into place. Better to not seem too hot-headed.

Tension coated the room like a sickly ooze. Vi could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

 _Ga gun Ga gun Ga gun_

It's not like she really cared about the place. She could go to some other workshop and do under the table shit, she didn't care. Just as long as she could get a place to function map her gauntlets properly. To use good equipment.

And damn this place had nice gear. Tools that were well used, but seemed reliable. Steel and crystals that seemed to be good quality shit. Her fingers yearned to play with the blowtorch knobs, or be covered in the engine grease that seemed to be the purest substance she had ever seen.

It would be really nice.

Leera sighed heavily, her fingers drummed anxiously on the old desk.

"I don't like people working under the table. Way too much legal shit involved and if one thing goes sour and we don't go with the codes of conduct you put us in a really bad position. So today I'm putting you on trial. You're going to have to deal with me hovering over you for a bit because if this works out, I'm hiring you for apprenticeship. You'll get half pay wages and you need to sign up with the local guilds. It's going to cost you, but it will temporarily certify you." She looked at Vi with intense eyes. "This is how I know you're serious about this job. I'm also going to call on Torrin to see what he says about you. One bad word and I'm going to make you leave instantly." She warned.

Vi breathed in and nodded. "Makes sense. Where do I go to get guild certified?" She extended her hand to Leera.

The worker rose an eyebrow before grabbing at the brawler's outreached hand. They clasped and shook. "Orion avenue on the west shopping belt. Six blocks away. Shouldn't be long to get what you need. Come back with what you got and then we'll really test your skill."

Without a second word, Vi engaged her gauntlets, breathing in deeply as the power crystals and steam hummed in content. She rose from her seat, gave a terse nod and set off.

Leera reached for the phone, dialling a few numbers and waited for the other line to pick up.

"You're right." Leera pinched the bridge of her nose. How she found her way into a mess like this she doesn't know, but the sooner it gets done the better. She has a whole fleet of carriages that needed customizing before snowdown for one of the bigger clans to finish. "She came waltzing on in. She's got spirit too. Kinda feel bad, Sheriff. She really thinks she has a future."

"You're doing her a great service. Who knows if all turns out well she can be back working for my uncle." Caitlyn reassured. "But right now we have questions that need to be answered. Innocent families are being targeted and if my hunches are right, she can really shed some light."

"Yeah, still doesn't make me feel better," Leera muttered. "Just be quick about it, please. Not long I was in her position just trying to get my shit together."

"No massive disturbances, I promise," Caitlyn vowed. "I'll be there shortly."

* * *

It took her nearly an hour and half of strong-arming the guild master to even consider taking her in. With too much disdain and spittle for Vi's taste. It was until she had to explain how she made a mining golem her (and she quotes) bitch. How she made her gauntlets and other devices work for her. It wasn't until she was throwing her own spittle that the guild master had shut up enough to actually take a chance to listen and look at her creation.

It wasn't like he was using the words exquisite or glorious, but it was enough to tickle his fancy on how she had actually made something this rustic without any training whatsoever. He was impressed and did his best to hide it.

"Look can I get the apprenticeship certificate or am I gonna have to get one forged." She spat impatiently.

The guild master sighed. "Shouldn't be any harm, I guess." He stamped a piece of parchment and scribbled out his signature. He pointed to a line along the ink marks. " Sign here." He passed his fountain pen and watched in amazement as she gingerly took it into her left glove. The tip of her tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth as she wrote out her name in shabby shaken lettering. "Thank you, miss…" He peered down his glasses and screwed his face in confusion. "Vi?" He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. She nodded in exasperation.

The guild master gave a sheepish smile before he finished the parchment off with a wax seal. "That'll be four hundred gold."

"What?" Vi deadpanned looking at the man incredibly.

"An apprenticeship certificate is four hundred gold, Miss Vi. If you cannot pay the fee then we will have to force you into labour until you are able to pay it off." He grumbled, his moustache twitched with each consonant.

Vi did quick math.

She would only have fifteen gold to her name after this. Voids above she better get this job or she'll be dumpster diving for the next month and a half.

With a stiff upper lip, she slapped down the coin bag. "Count it out." She growled, watching him closely. The man did so.

Soon she was out the door as a certified apprentice for the west side of the shopping district. If she had paid another four hundred she could be certified Piltover wide. She just hoped she didn't need to go Piltover wide.

The workshop was a lot quieter than the first time she came in. It was almost if it were a ghost town. The chain falls clacked as a slight fall breeze pushed its way forward. The bodies of hexcarriages looked ominous and empty.

Something twinged in Vi's gut, causing her instincts to scream out a warning. She could feel the gaze of over observant eyes being directed to her shoulder blades. It was the same familiar watch that had followed her the past weeks. It had taken a break but had returned with a sickening vengeance. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she hunched her shoulders over her ears protectively.

"Leera?" She called out into the empty air.

It was a few seconds before the short woman poked her head out from somewhere at the back of the shop.

"Oh hey, you came back." Leera gave a small sideways grin. "Got the certificate?"

Vi rose an eyebrow. "Where the hell is everyone?" She passed the parchment over. Her gauntlets hissed at the action; they too sensed the offness of the situation.

"Lunch break." Leera muttered, her eyes going over the signatures. "Alright, well I don't have much to eat right now, so let's get you to work." Leera returned the certificate. "Follow me. Let's see how you work with engines. I have a tricky piston that keeps misaligning and I have tried everything. Maybe you might know what to do."

Vi nodded.

She swallowed away the feeling of being watched. She was either super paranoid or correct about being watched, but no matter what, she had to trust her gut.

Something wasn't right.

But she needed this job.

 _Fuck, a nice rock and hard place situation you got yourself into you fucking doorknob._ She chided herself.

She slapped on a cocky smile as she followed after Leera. "I can fix anything." She boasted as she clenched her goliath gauntlets uneasily.

Leera gave a small snort. "Alright, I'll believe it when I see it."

The engine dangled off the chain fall; the weight kept the metal links taut. Parts of the machine lay to ruin on a workbench nearby.

"Voids, you massacred the poor thing." Vi frowned. "What kind of shop are you running? I've seen chop shops handle shit better than this." She scolded.

Leera leaned her back up against the skeleton belonging to the engine. "It's been rough. We've been trying to rebuild it, but it keeps choking out. Like I said earlier we have some pistons that keep misaligning. We've tried everything, but it just, won't function to efficiency codes."

"Efficiency codes?" Vi asked behind her shoulder as she inspected the machine heart.

"Piltover hex carriages can't emit pollutants over the efficiency code. The crystals need to be in solid shape without having cough ups being produced." Leera explained. "The engine is from a decade ago and we need to convert it to better standards. We have to do our part to keep the air clean."

"Right." Vi murmured. "I mean a decade old engine can't be that out of date?"

"Change happens fast in Piltover." A Piltovian proper accent cut through the air like a knife behind the pinkette.

Vi turned instantly to face the sheriff.

"Son of a bitch." She snarled. "Fuckin' knew it. Voids bloody above, you've got to be joking me. You have something to do with this?" She glared to Leera, who raised her hands defensively.

"Look, just hear her out."

"Mother fucker. I actually thought you were cool."

"Vi, we have quite a lot to talk about. Let's all just take a second to breathe and.." The sheriff began. There was a genuine softness to her icy hues as she regarded the brawler. She had her hands up by her waist approaching Vi as if she were a stray hungry dog.

"Shut it, Sheriff." Vi barked, setting her feet shoulder-width apart. "Stay the fuck away from me."

"Vi I know you're on the run," Caitlyn said evenly as her soft demeanour turned into something wary.

"You don't know shit," Vi growled. Her chest rose and fell as adrenaline kicked through her veins. Her gauntlets steamed in agitation.

 _Break the fucking walls idiot!_

"Vi if you do not come with me, I will arrest you where you stand," Caitlyn warned.

"Fuck you!" Vi spat in return.

"There is a warrant out for you, Vi." The sheriff explained. "You are on charges of property damage, assault and petty theft. But if you come with me and answer some questions I can reduce the punishment that the courts seem fit for you. I can assure you that jail time will be non-existent."

Vi folded over herself as she concentrated all of the power of the gauntlets into her right fist.

"Do not do this," Caitlyn warned again, pulling out her rifle and aiming down the sights. "I will not hesitate."

Vi looked up to the Sheriff with a snarl. Her violet eyes danced with dangerous light. "Stuff your face in the void, cupcake."

The pinkette lunged from the side and threw a punch at a nearby concrete wall. Debris flew around her as she gave a great battle cry and burst through to the other side. She could hear calls outs as electric pulses whizzed past her head. She threw her left fist up, shielding herself from a pulse as it slammed into the rough metal of her gauntlet. She lunged forward using her right hand to propel her forward. Her eyes caught vision of an officer in front of her. The panic in his eyes made a small giddy feeling rise through Vi.

She grabbed his pulse rifle, ripping it from his hands and crushing it into her palm. In the same movement, she grabbed at his collar and threw the officer into another across the makeshift battlefield.

A pulse grazed at her left side, burning her jacket and some of her skin. She yelped out and turned on her heels to narrowly avoid another aimed at her. She grits her teeth as one shot through her gauntlet, searing her hand.

"Fuck off!" Vi bellowed as she threw the remnants of the pulse rifle to the other three trying to surround her.

Suddenly she felt a stunning fire like sting delved into her calf muscle. In the middle of her throw, she put the weight on it and fell to her knees. Pain screamed its way to her shoulder next as her muscles seized. She needed to get out.

She needed to run.

But the thing about Vi was that she never ran. Over-commitment was her middle name.

She growled through the pain as she lunged forward. She wreaked havoc as her display of brute strength caught the officers off guard. They had never seen anything like it as she roared forward, slamming her fists into the ground. The reverberations knocked them down as she vaulted through one of the hex carriages. She grabbed the one hiding behind its cover, pulling him through the interior and throwing him to the ground.

Another sharp sting burrowed into her shoulder making her cry out.

"Enough!" A voice commanded. It was a sharp order promising deadly consequence if disobeyed.

Vi turned then, chest heaving, body burnt, gauntlets looking dishevelled and blood dripping from her wounds.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared down the sheriff. "You fucking shot me!"

"You harmed my officers and made me break a promise." Caitlyn spat back. Her icy eyes cold as she stared down the barrel of her rifle.

Vi sprinted forward fists poised to strike the sheriff.

The rifle went off.

Vi bellowed.

Netting wrapped around the brawler, constricting Vi's movements. She fell forward, tumbling roughly into the uneven cobblestone of the streets. She skidded to a halt in front of Caitlyn who slammed the rifle into the brawler's temple.


	4. Chapter 4: MoveHalt

_**An- Hello again! Finally finished this chapter. Vi and Cait have been on my mind quite a lot lately and I'm glad I could kind of theorycraft a bit of their earlier history. I hope you all enjoy fam, Your support has been nothing but amazing and I love writing for you all. Thank you for enjoying what I do.**_

Move/Halt

Her brain rattled with such an aggressive drone, causing her to rise to her feet arms swinging out to attack the ones responsible for the ringing in her skull.

A mute noise of surprised annoyance bubbled from her throat as she found her wrists manacled tightly together. "What in the f.." She half snarled in her dazed and confused state. She caught her balance as her left knee gave out, pain shooting up to her thigh making a throaty groan break out from her snarled lips. She put most of her weight into her right leg.

"Son of a mother fuc-" She gasped as she looked to the bleeding through a bandage wrapped around her upper calf and lower thigh.

Now she had in fact woken up in worse states before. Many times from drunken benders, over-exuberant party nights, lust-driven bed partners and one too many brawls that usually caused a coy fox-like smirk to cross her blood-stained lips, cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth.

But never had she found herself chained, injured and heatedly pissed under the roof of one of the Piltover Police precincts.

Her temper rose like an agitated Demacian diamondback cobra; flaring and hissing, ready to strike at the unlucky perpetrator who forced her in this uncanny position.

Really in the back of her over steamed mind, she knew she only had herself to blame. She had been careless, stupid, an outright idiot. She tried to stay away from creating patterns, to be unobvious, but rather than planning like a smart criminal she trusted her gut and herself.

And the first rule of the streets was to never trust anyone, not even yourself.

However, in the state she was in, she would never admit that.

Hell her pride rose on the back of its hind legs and reared with ugly energy that made her metaphorical hackles rise, making that factual statement burn up into the incinerator of her mind.

Quick to instincts, her eyes darted around the small plaster cinder block wall enclosed cell. A small wooden bench laid suspended against the right-hand wall. The paint colour was an odd pine silver, obviously trying not to be white and obviously trying not to be joyful. It was just enough to be a pointless void bringing colour to let a mind wander effortlessly.

The wall in front of her was nothing but long iron wrought bars. They shadowed over her face as she awkwardly sauntered to them.

It was then that she noticed the officer standing guard across from her cell.

Vi's eyes burned bright violet as her chest heaved. Violence coursed through her veins calling to her like a desperate siren. Her knuckles clenched tightly into balled fists, making the manacles rattle with her shaking. She ignored the dizziness making her body feel faint and tired.

The officer regarded her coldly. His eyes focused on nothing in particular. He sighed greatly as he grabbed the walkie at his belt.

"She's awake." He breathed monotonously. It crackled back an inaudible response making the officer look up to the ceiling. "Of course. I'll have her marched over." He replied. He returned the radio to his belt. "Turn around and face the wall." He ordered sharply.

"Fucking make me, Pig." She growled. "You ain't takin' me anywhere."

The officer raised his eyebrow. "Turn around and face the wall, convict." He repeated calmly.

"Call me that one more fucking time."

"I will not tell you again, convict. Turn around and face the wall."

"You cocky fuck!" She chuckled. "You know what I do to people like you? Fucking unchain me and I dare you to make me 'turn around and face the wall'" She mocked with a malicious grin.

The officer gave a small sideways grin and shook his head. He jingled his keys in front of her face. "Don't make this harder on yourself then it has to be. You come with me and you could be out of here by the end of the night."

"Go fuck yourself."

The officer gave another great sigh. "Look, the boss just wants questions. You answer them, you can go. No strings attached."

"What about a lawyer?" She muttered. "What about my right to one, eh?"

"Can you afford one, convict?"

"Don't fucking call me that. As far as I know, I haven't been charged with shit!"

He ignored her. "Can you afford one?"

He watched the way she glowered at him. Annoyance is clear as day laying brightly in her violet eyes. She looked up to the ceiling cracking her knuckles with her thumb pressing into her fingers before she returned her agitated glare to the young officer.

"Nope." She spat.

"Well if you want one, you can wait about six months for a public rep to process your application and then another month before they take your case, thus meaning you forfeit yourself to our custody until you get a legal representative." He informed her. "Or you can come with me and be done in thirty minutes, tops."

Her jaw tightened. Her left leg felt numb and her right leg shook from holding her up for so long already.

Fuck how could she get so weak like this?

"Gods above." She snarled as she turned to the back wall and placed her dizzy head along the cool pine silver cinderblock.

"Thank you for your cooperation, citizen." The officer breathed as he unlocked the cell door.

Vi's knuckles clenched in annoyance. "I ain't one of you piltie fucks." She mumbled at the wall. Her vision slurred slightly but she shook it off, concentrating on the cool feeling of the wall to keep her conscious.

Fucking must have gotten a concussion.

She tries to bring herself back to what last happened to her, but the fuzzy feeling of betrayal and the scent of blood lingers in her memory, causing her to shiver.

She feels the officer's hand enclose around her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked, concern lining his voice.

"I'm fine." She growled in response. "Just not used to letting a dude get handsy with me." she half chuckled to herself.

"Well if it counts for anything, I myself, am not quite used to being handsy with a woman either." Vi could hear the tinge of a slight smirk in his voice.

A new sense of camaraderie washed over her slightly. A one-of-us moment that made her like this pig a tiny bit more than absolutely hating him.

"Fair enough." She snorts.

"Right this way." He gently guides her out of the cell and through the holding area. They walk in silence accompanied by Vi's limping gait and the manacles clinking against each other. The bullpen was full of tension, paperwork and the smell of stale tobacco. It honestly made her feel queasy. Paperwork was easily the cause of the tension, and the stale tobacco obviously belonged to the middle-aged detective who clenched his pipe between his teeth as Vi locked eyes with him.

"Son of a bitch." Vi cussed sharply.

"They finally caught ya pinky? Told ya you were heading down the wrong path. It sure is quite the scene seeing you in cuffs. About time we brought in the right human trash." He beamed, throwing his manila folder on the top of his desk. He grinned widely and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fuck off, Hayward." She warned as they walked past.

"That's Lieutenant Hayward, pinky." He called out after her.

The officer guiding her through the station gripped her shoulder tighter and pushed her roughly as she tried to lunge toward the detective.

"Liking the veneers, Hayward. How was sucking off Gus for the cash to pay for that shit, lieutenant? Huh?! Last I heard you were fucking around the fight pits gambling tough cash from his bank loot after he took out the vaults! Is that how you got him to pay for my fucking handy work on your ugly fucking face? Hope you like FUCKING CORRUPTION CHARGES YOU OVERGROWN DICKWAD!" She bellowed.

"You little bitch!" He roared, slamming his hands on his desk as he got up, pointing a menacing digit toward Vi. Another detective moved quickly to put a hand on Hayward's chest to keep him from attacking the cuffed young woman.

"EAT TOE RUBBER YOU MOLDY FUCKER!"

The officer pushed her roughly as he blocked her view of the lieutenant. "Just keep moving. He just wants to egg you on."

"No fucking shit sherlock. Voids, you should be a lead detective. You solve things pretty fucking easily it seems." She spat.

"Simple observation." He muttered dryly.

"Fucking hell." She cussed angrily as they rounded the corner and made their way into a new hallway. "Really fucking hate that crusty asshole."

"Is it a surprise if I say that we all do?"

Vi gave a hard snort. "Not at all. Gods what a fucking piece of garbage. Can't believe you idiots have him around."

"He's from the old guard. Can't really do much until he retires; contracts and legal litigations are quite the handful."

"Fucking please," The pinkette snapped, her aggression smouldering under her skin. She brought up her cuffed hands to rub at her nose in annoyance. "Just sounds like you're scared of him."

The officer gives a grunt in agreement. "It annoys me just as much as it annoys you."

Violet eyes side-eyed the officer. "You're new here, aren't ya?"

"Now, who should be a lead detective?" He smirks.

"Simple observation."

The officer can't help the chuckle that bubbles out from his lips. The side smile he gets in return from her makes him shake his head as he coughs to hide the fact that he's been laughing. He licks his lips and gains control of himself before he knocks on a heavy oak door, that has been carved into. Gold lettering painted on the oak announces who owns the office.

"Sheriff, huh?" Vi asks with a great sigh, rolling her sore shoulders and making the bones crack.

"Yep."

"She in a good mood?"

The officer smirks as they watch the door, hearing heeled boots make their way across hardwood flooring.

"Never."

"Fuck."

The brass door handle turned and Vi pulled in a large breath.

Piltover's youngest Sheriff regarded Vi with a cool levelled icy stare. Her raven black hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, revealing most of her sharp facial features and the soft features around her cold eyes and button nose. A perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked as she regarded Vi's cocky raised chin.

"Thank you, Officer Turner, I can handle it from here."

The young officer gave a quick nod before he left the Sheriff and the brawler alone.

Caitlyn moved to the side of the door, gesturing for Vi to come in. With a defiant sniff, the pinkette moved forward, keeping her manacled hands up to her stomach as she limped forward. Behind her, she heard the heavy door close.

The office was...not what Vi was expecting.

The walls were a light steel gray that gave the room a fairly professional vibe to the room. An L shaped desk welcomed her with baskets of organized parchments and manila folders. Behind the desk was a tall leather office chair and behind that a solid brick wall. Two matching black leather chairs sat precariously before the desk.

"Please take a seat."

Vi turned her head to watch as the sheriff moved languidly past the brawler and toward a metal filing cabinet resting against one of the gray walls. The sheriff bent down to retrieve a file.

The pinkette rose an appreciative scarred eyebrow to the view of Caitlyn's behind, tilting her head slightly. The sheriff rose and Vi quickly returned her cocky glare toward the matching chairs. She plopped into the leather, waiting with a tight-lipped expression as the sheriff sat at her desk.

Caitlyn opened the file, thumbing through reports and long paragraphed descriptions. "You don't have a full name or a date of birth. Not a single arrest, but a massive list of criminal deviancy cases.A long history of gang affiliation. More warnings than I can count. "

"Well. you can never have too many warnings." The pinkette chuffed.

The sheriff tilted her head sideways, studying the young woman with perceptive eyes. "I quite like getting to the point when it comes to questioning suspects. However, you have pulled me through such a goose chase the last few weeks, that I have no idea which point I need to make."

"That mean I can leave?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, then figure out which fucking point you wanna make, so I can get the fuck outta here." Vi stated flatly, keeping her violet eyes menacingly pinned to the sheriff.

Caitlyn returned the stare cooly, completely unblinking as she regarded the brute. "You were running away from me and someone else. I want to know who that someone else was."

The brawler leaned forward placing her arms on her thighs. "Why?"

Ice blue eyes took the challenge with widened pupils. "Because I believe that whoever else you are running from may have something to do with the assaults of my uncle and many other victims."

"Listen lady, I run from a lot of people. As you said 'a long history of gang affiliation'. I get in one fucking fist fight my number is up, people start talking and then guess who is hunted for like half the year?"

"Yes, but someone who gets targeted specifically almost instantly after an altercation?"

Vi shrugs.

"Tell me who it was that sent those two men at your apartment."

"Do you know the saying 'snitches get stitches'?"

"If you do not answer I will have to charge you for tampering with an official investigation."

The brawler shakes her head. "You're fucking ruthless."

"Thank you." The Sheriff grabs at a notebook a dips her quill in an inkpot. She looks to the pinkette with an emotionless expectation. "As I see it, you have a choice between your freedom or from helping me find the people that assaulted my uncle. Choose wisely, Vi."

The brawler glares at the Sheriff with an intense glower. "What's the mattress selection like for the prison here? They got some education programs happening right now?"

Caitlyn's eyebrow twitches.

A devious grin spreads through Vi's lips in Victory.

The sheriff's nostrils flare as she takes a deep settling breath. "Do you know that they attacked again?"

The grin falls off the brawler's face quickly. "Don't fucking do that. Don't lie to me to get answers. That's real fucking low."

Caitlyn's eyes flick up dangerously. She pushes over an article from the Piltover Gazette, catching Vi's attention to the white and black print.

 _Deramore Boat Warehouse Torched._

"My uncle was lucky enough to have escaped with minor burns. Everything in the factory was looted, all of his blueprints, pay statements, everything."

Vi takes a moment to let the information sink in. She brings her manacled hands up to her face, pulling at the skin as she lets out a deep breath. Anger grows in her chest, nearly boiling over. "Get these fucking things off of me." She never knew she could speak so evenly, this mad.

"No."

"Get the cuffs off. You won't have to worry about an investigation because I'll handle this."

"You'll handle this?"

"They wanna fucking toe the line, then let 'em. They want to cause some trouble, get my attention? Fine, but they best fucking believe I will break every gods damned bone in their bodies."

"This isn't the streets. Laws are set in place for these reasons so that I can make sure that proper justice is served. If you let me know who has been following you, I can see if they are related to the attacks on my uncle and his factory."

"With corrupt pigs under yer fucking belt?" Vi snorts. "Yeah good, fucking luck with that. As soon as you come up with a fucking plan, they're gonna know yer coming for them, goody two shoes." She shook her manacled hands. "Get these off of me and I will show you proper fucking justice."

"I agree that there is a corruption issue within my precincts. It is a situation that I am dealing with."

"You've had this job for, what, two years now? Great job dealing with it."

"Fourteen months actually."

"Voids." Vi shakes her head incredulously. "And you wanna take one of the most dangerous gangs to walk these alleys? You're going to get eaten alive."

"And you won't?"

"Fuck, no. I grew up with these sleaze dicks. I know how they think since I was one of 'em. You, on the other hand, yer just a fucking Piltie and I can bet you got yourself a fucking hedgefund, an estate, probably a nice car. Let me guess, your mommy and daddy haven't been intimate in a long time and it makes you so sad." Vi mocks.

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover." There is a subtle warning in that statement.

"I don't need to judge the cover when I've heard the story enough times."

"Do you know how I got this job?"

"Daddy's networking?"

Caitlyn disregarded the brawler as she rose from her chair. She reached beneath her desk to grab at a watering can. She sauntered toward a small plant that sat atop the filing cabinet. "At thirteen, I was able to track and capture a bunch of brutes like yourself, that had mugged my father. I was scolded, obviously, but I found that I had a knack for fixing criminal tendencies. It wasn't until I was eighteen that I stopped my vigilante lifestyle and joined the police academy."

"Fucking yawn. I don't care about your lame ass origin story." Vi rolled her head back and lifted her manacles again. "Fucking spare me your sob story and get these bloody things off of me so that I can get on with me serving the biggest can of whoop-ass the lower ring has ever seen."

A tight sigh caught Vi's attention. "Do you know that I was the one in charge of the colossal bust?"

Vi's head snapped back to stare at the woman incredulously. "You did that?"

"Every moving piece, every order." She returned to her chair and pressed her hands together on her desk. "I had just been promoted to deputy sheriff when they gave me the assignment. Sheriff Brifdoon, before me, was an old man who was just at the edge of retirement and couldn't care less, so he gave me as much authority that I needed."

"You made the sirens back off to Zaun. You practically reopened a power struggle for Piltover."

"I've been using that bust as bait, to keep tabs of gang activity. Anything that so much as moves the wrong way in the underground, I know about it."

"But you didn't see the assaults coming did you?"

Caitlyn pinches the bridge of her nose. "I did not."

"So we come full circle." Vi begins. "Look, I'll even deliver the head guy to yeah. Just let me out of these and you will never have to worry about me or them again."

"You're trying to bribe your service?" A strange look crossed the sheriff. It was a mix of mirth, incredulity, and disbelief.

"We want the same thing. To give those fucking dicks a taste of their own medicine. I'll give you the head of the gang, if you let me free."

The sheriff opened her mouth and then on a second thought closed it. "I...you…" She then began to scribble in her notebook. Sharp lines were dug into the paper with ink, followed by flowing cursive. A few minutes passed making Vi give the sheriff a screwed expression.

"What are you doing?"

"Silence, I'm thinking." Caitlyn cut hotly. Another few moments passed before, finally, the sheriff sat up straight. "Alright, but I have terms and you need to agree to them for me to let you go."

Vi was taken aback. Did this actually work?

"One, once you are free, your sole purpose is to find and apprehend the leader. You have three weeks to do this. I'm giving you some leniency since you are injured. Two, you must keep to the law."

Vi snorted. "Fine. Easy."

"Three, I am going to supervise you and follow you throughout the process to ensure that you, keep to the law and don't leave the city."

"Abso-fucking-lutely not."

"Then we have no deal."

"You aren't gonna fucking boss me around if I'm doing this. We're equals." Vi argued hotly.

"Partners?"

They both stare at each other. Simultaneously they both answer that question in unison.

"No!"

"Equals?" Caitlyn takes a moment to mull over the thought. She then reaches into a drawer and rises from her desk holding a ring of keys. "Fine, I can agree to that. However, if you so much as show any inkling toward breaking any of these terms, I will arrest you on the spot." She makes her way to Vi, who holds up her wrists gratefully.

"Sure thing. Whatever, I'll keep on the line."

Her brow furrowed as she watched Caitlyn hesitate, holding the keys to her chest.

"As a sign of good faith, tell me who has been following you."

Vi sighed. "You really push to make sure you get what you want, don't you?"

"One could say I was a bit of a 'spoiled piltie'."

This would be a tipping point. She could sense it in her gut, in all honesty. Could she trust the Sheriff to let her deal with the situation, or would she turn the tables on Vi? She seemed like the honourable type to keep her word. Plus Piltie cops wouldn't be able to handle Zaun, so in reality, to even get her stupid tiny hands on Rolum, she would need Vi to get her there and out in one piece.

"Give me your word that you won't double cross me. Give me your word that you won't turn around and try your own assault once I give you the information."

"I'm not stupid. I'll give you my word, but I believe, you and I both know that for this to work out, we both need to rely on each other."

"Ugh, don't fucking slow me down. I ain't carrying any dead weight, that's all I ask."

"You are underestimating me, Vi."

"I have my reasons to underestimate anyone I meet. It's how I survived."

"I've given you my word. Now, give me names." She raised an eyebrow to Vi as she jingled the keys to the manacles.

"Rolum, he is the leader of the Cogs. An ex sumpsnipe back in the day." The brawler sighed.

Caitlyn made quick work to the manacles, the metal sliding off of Vi's bruised wrists.


End file.
